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To begin, I want to provide a bit more context surrounding McKinley Dixon and his artistry. To preface, he is an American rapper who grew up in the state of Virginia where he gets his college education. He’s always been something of a literati even as a child who spends a lot of his time reading texts of all sorts be it fictional, biographical, or scholarly. Particularly, he grew up with acclaimed author Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou whose focus on the struggles of Black Americans had guided his creative process. You can listen to his works and think of an emcee like Nas, an act like CunninLynguists, or a contemporary like Kendrick Lamar. You might be surprised however that while he credited To Pimp a Butterfly for popularising vulnerability in hip hop, he considered Quelle Chris to be his main musical influence in an interview with Sonemic although he does mention Blu and Exile as his other key inspiration as well.

When Dixon first made a bit of a wave back in 2021 with For My Mothers and Anyone Who Looks Like Her, I was just about starting up this blog. I was largely unaware of him until two years later when he came out with Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!? which marks his breakthrough into the foray of the genre. He has always rapped with live jazz instrumentation, but the ones that are done in his breakthrough are done by composer and trumpeter Sam Koff. It received rave reviews from many publications who found its more poetic lyricism, dynamic production, and vocal inflection infectious in its impact. For that, Dixon saw his record get placed on several year-end lists of best albums. I particularly find him more likable in his style than Billy Wood, Nas, Danny Brown (in Quaranta, not his collab with JPEGMAFIA), and Travis Scott. It is accessible in a way that doesn’t completely sell out its artistic impact; he can flow in a way that is technically impressive without obscuring his topic of choice.

Magic, Alive! is his latest album. Released on the 6th of June, it is a kind of album that has a clear-cut concept that you wouldn’t pick up on in an instant. On the Bandcamp page, it is about three friends who tried to use magic to resurrect their deceased friend with the theme being on what constitutes magic. It feels modest until you take note of how one of the tracks is titled “Run, Run, Run Pt. II” after his beloved single from the last record which suggests that the friend was killed by the police. It’s from there when the jigsaw puzzle begins to come together. Magic itself is fantastical and that is what allows it to manifest itself as a stand-in for hope, escapism, and justice. Ones that feel fictional to many Black Americans who face prejudices be it police brutality or institutional racism. 

Don’t let its pint-sized runtime of only 35 minutes fool you. Magic, Alive!, while it might not be the most musically ambitious, is a masterwork in conscious hip hop. It takes its concept more seriously than what you would think even if it has a thing or two to say about Black American communities. Indeed, as hinted before, magic itself manifests as an immaterial, optimistic charge that empowers many to carry on living even as their closest friends and most invaluable loved ones pass away. This is what ‘Watch My Hands’ implies as an intro where its entirely acoustic guitar picks and delicate piano chords add a sense of funerary melancholiness to our trio’s bout to raise their friend from the dead. Dixon’s narration contrasts the impression of summer as being primed for rest and relaxation (“Summer is hot / Babies in beaters, sweat beadin’ under my t-shirt”) with the suspense that surrounds the taboo of raising someone from the dead for the sake of the community – “Youngin’ come runnin’, light tight in his hands, we gather and ask, ‘Is magic alive?’(Yeah)”. In just under two minutes, you get hooked in with the flow that dominates much of Magic, Alive! as it ebbs through the importance of friendship, social justice, and fantasy.

The next track in ‘Sugar Water’ sees the jazz instrumentation come to life with its unstructured trumpet, tip-toeing bassline, and protruding drumming alongside a soulful chorus from folk singer-songwriter Anjimile. Here, Dixon raps of the resurrection going into motion but not without potential consequences on how it would shape the entire community through an Outkast reference:

“As the plot thickens, my [n-word] be clicking
Hard bottoms 3AM on the floor in the kitchen
Dance of the dead my heart and floor, you stuck?
I’ll do anything but let’s not wake Ms. Jackson up”

The guest verse from Quelle Chris plays the act of a cautionary tale not being foreshadowed as it is said in advance. He essentially advises the trio on preserving their fallen friend’s memory through adopting their lifestyle into their local culture – “My big bro told me every song you make is a picture of forever, dawg / And once you let it out and spread it round like aerosol”. It mirrors Dixon’s second verse through the production to compare what it means to keep someone alive through magic. Either it’s in a positive way through upholding their virtues in Chris’s case or through the extreme measure of resurrection with regret and complications. In the final verse, the latter comes to the forefront as the now-living friend is looked at “in a different light” as if he’s prepared to continue on with his daily life in a changed environment.

Barring the lyrical excellence from Dixon in concocting the anxiousness in what would have been a miraculous act, his handling of his signature jazz backing has reached a subtle level of theatricality that deserves its specific praise. As I listened to it more and more, the instrumentals don’t just feel exuberant or electrifying in how it adds to the flow of the rapping. Its more improvisational direction bears a symbolic value that stands for the significance of Black American culture. Not only are much of the instrumentation act in a way that is more dynamic which subtly hints at the divergences depending on the regions in the United States, but it also shapes the featured artists in how they perform, sing, or rap. It comes off as a stretch at first, so I’ll try and use the next track as an example.

‘Crooked Stick’ starts off with a drum roll and a chorus from the near-anonymous Alfred who had previously rapped in Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!?. Last time, his verse parodied the bling era of hip hop where he rapped from the perspective of a gay star who treats women like trash and is more concerned about acting tough because of his crime-riddled background. Here, his focus is nearly the same but it has a more socialistic tone (“Bourgeois flip-flops, give a fuck, my pants like Kris Kross”) and anti-consumerist (“You do that little dance for TikTok / You’re mopped and wish-washed / NPC, white noise, blip-blop, bitch, stop”) to the squeaky brasses that tried to follow the trumpet and horn. 

In the same track, Ghais Guevara sought to portray the power of healing as a divine tool that is best used for good even if it comes with great responsibility.  Dixon, on the other hand, marvels at the potential that reviving people has with a virtual snigger at the possibility of it as a job. Only the trumpet stays with its fluctuating volume showing how such a power could easily be used for good or evil. The brass instruments used thus compliments the style and enhances its relevance to the concept by hinting at the complexity in working for your own ethnic or racial group.

‘Recitaltif’, with the chopped piece of piano playing that is surely sampled, evokes the nostalgia in remembering your parents (specifically here, your mom). Here, Dixon portrays them as key role models in establishing your ethics in light of systemic discrimination (“Skin the tone that let us hide in night sky”). Even as the narrator feels his memory becoming more blurred, he carries his mother’s message with him as he sought to reconcile his newfound ability with the struggles of his material conditions (“If the house is burning down / How could we survive?”) It consists of two distinct parts however and halfway through, the beat switches to more futuristic bass synths and boom bap-esque drumbeats as he envisions his power being used for commercial gains. Even if it’s for the sake of his family, the abrupt change in the production alongside the more breathless delivery from Dixon feels like a commentary on building wealth for the Black community (e.g. Jay-Z). Just as the improvisation dies down, so does the authenticity in doing something because it is right. 

‘Run, Run, Run Pt. II’, as mentioned previously, is the sequel to the standout from Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!?. While the previous version is more upbeat in its production and its premise more broadly based around the contrast between childhood memories of play-shooting against actual violence, this one gets close and personal on the consequences of the magic. In front of booming brasses, resurrection stands in place of solidarity for freedom from suppression as the verses highlight his desire to use his power for the greater good. However, lines like “[dying] underneath the stars a real gangster’s dreams / Thug love” or “[n-word] turn sons to religion for all the wrong reasons / Fans is pictures, folded faces cover the page” suggest otherwise. In conjunction with the horn in the background, it both reveals the normalisation of shame within Black American communities and highlights the acceptance of being victims of violence. I would go as far as to argue that the “real gangster’s dream” line implies that the friend was originally killed by cops with his dying comfort being the ironic poetry in his death that many crime fantasists could only dream of.

‘We’re Outside, Rejoice!’ sees its instrumental baseline take the form of an electric organ as the anecdote was built around systemic racism. Here, the narrator talks to a man “who can barely use limbs” about the Darwinist mentality in Black American communities and how so much of its culture revolves around self-inflicted pain. It is supplemented with an optimistic chorus that celebrates Black American unity. The tinge of vibraphone accentuates the hope, but it finds itself restrained from the sacrifices made to even make an inch’s worth of progress from what is generation’s worth of poverty. The call-and-response exchange between Dixon and the choir alongside the pause in the rapping for the first minute and a half, in a way, highlights the significance of collectivism in building for the better future. It’s hopeful even if it’s rooted in drug abuse and criminality.

At its slowest, ‘All the Loved Ones (What Would We Do???)’ is more dictated by its bassline and shimmering electric keyboard which hints at the more feminine topic. Motherhood and childhood takes the mantle as Dixon and featured rappers ICECOLDBISHOP and Pink Siifu, likely representing the trio, highlight their importance throughout a person’s life. Dixon targets the present in how mothers temper the impulses of the narrator and prevent him from dying prematurely as is common with many men in their community. “[N-words] rip off arms in names of heart they carried on they sleeve / He said, ‘I’m sorry I killed that boy, but he tried to kill my dreams,’ okay” goes the ironic melodrama in how warped expectations drive men to become more emotionally unstable than the women they undervalue. ICECOLDBISHOP instead sees his mom taking up the same role that his father had left since he was an infant, putting all her efforts into making him complete without any strings attached. Pink Siifu, to cap off the song, shows the retrospection of childhood like taking friends for granted, realising the depth of familial problems, and being persecuted by law enforcement. It’s more of a slow burn, one that is so revealing on consequent relistens that it feels intentional, that mirrors the introspection gained on the past once you became an adult.

‘F.F.O.L’ comes barging with its brasses as the trio find their greed expanding beyond their restraint as their friend becomes a kind of cash cow and the ability to raise the dead more invaluable. The instrumental is more similar to the bombastic big band from the likes of Charles Mingus back in the 1960s, but the trumpets lean towards egocentrism as the rapping is more braggadocio. The chorus credits ancestral traditions for the lyrical prowess (“I’m usin’ my grandfather’s words when I write / The language passed down from my head to my heart to my wrist to my fist and my fingers ignite”). Yet, the rest of the song hints otherwise that such a skill is used more as a metafictional commentary on the three friends’ ways being led astray. Teller Bank$ especially highlights the logical conclusion of that greed through comparisons with Kanye West’s antisemitism, religious heresy, and even the slave trade with the police’s attitude towards Black Americans. The song dismantles braggadocio rap by thematically aligning it with the decline in the trio’s morals.

By contrast, ‘Listen Gentle’ comes as the most lush with its faded background vocals and humble flute as resurrection serves as a metaphor for artistic influence passing down. It’s more like a love letter to a song like Nujabes’ ‘Luv(sic)’ series in how earnest it is in its attempt to trace its musical lineage. Dixon uncovers the true value of the magical spell as being more about the use of music to keep the memories of other people alive and how it’s a hard-fought effort to keep up with such a noble intent when both bittersweet memories and greed could wear it out. It thus would remind a listener of Common’s ‘I Used to Love H.E.R.’, albeit one that is more elaborate in that it’s connected to the whole concept of an album rather than being a standalone. With this idea, Magic, Alive!’s exploration of magic gets narrowed down from it being a stand-in for Black American unity to the power of hip hop to both inspire and push the racial group forward – even with warts included along the way.

The title track thus comes as the most optimistic in spite of ‘F.F.O.L’ implying that the three’s greed is sleepwalking out of its limit. Thanks to its jubilant piano, flute, and trumpet, the metafictional element rocketshoots upward to the sky as the true meaning of magic comes to the forefront. Intertwined with the growing maximalism of the jazz instrumentation and its expansive mixing, Dixon’s allusions to life and death, family and generations, and religion and folklore come off as that of childlike wonderment in awe at its prevalence. What I especially like with the title track is that by breaking with the story, it skips the potential tragedy in favour of summarily stating its main message. The real magic are the memories we have of our loved ones, the culture we uphold to represent our humanity, the real magic is hip hop’s roots as the cornerstone of Black American experiences. It rejects downfall in favour of the abstract intent.

It’s why in the end, ‘Could’ve Been Different’ hits especially hard. The musical key is more on the minor end with the music more mellow and the chorus more alluding to suicide. The observational lyricism for the first two verses suggest that the story is imagined and is instead the manifestation of one of the trio’s guilt over not saving his friend. This wraps the whole concept around in Magic, Alive! As that of the imaginative wishing of magic as the solution. Especially with the more prominent use of violins, it keeps the track grounded which becomes more apparent with Blu’s guest verse. Rapping from the perspective of the figure in the poster, the seeming peek of magic realism advises the narrator to not see himself as a martyr as had initially thought from his wishful desire for resurrection. Instead, he gets blunt with the main moral of the album:

“You askin’ me what I think, I’m just a poster on your wall
And I think you know the answer is right in your catalogue
McKinley, you showed me the importance of self-belief
Be loved, be jazzed, you don’t gotta be me”

Thus ends what might well be one of the best albums of this decade in my opinion. Despite its shorter runtime and the rapper in question not a mainstream staple, it’s a gorgeous record in its production and an inspiring one with its messaging. It’s a conscious masterpiece with how it utilises the premise of magic to shine light on the value of hip hop as a key staple in Black American society and how it’s built on the stones of many passionate rappers including those who are led astray by greed or had sadly died. The jazzy instrumentals in particular is more a homage to jazz’s history itself as being led, tamed, and fueled by Black musicians and composers. Almost everything about Magic, Alive! breathes profound love for its culture and it never truly stops loving it no matter the drama or the pressure.

When Kendrick Lamar released To Pimp a Butterfly back in 2015, it was lauded by many as one of the greatest albums of all time. It is remarked as an instant classic; its ambition and artistic sensibilities balancing out its catchy singles. While I have listened to it several times and have thought very well of it, I can’t help but feel that Dixon could well have given it a run for its money with Magic, Alive! to the point where I personally think of it as being even better in some regards. Its self-pity minimised and its ultimate target more modest and humble, Dixon asks for hip hop to be the crown that adorns the Black American community as a whole. And he asks that it be one that will inspire many to aspire for the better all together in the future.

5/5